


watch you drink your orange juice (you’re as good as superfruit)

by voltemand



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26346106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voltemand/pseuds/voltemand
Summary: Annie likes that about Abed: he follows through. He’s solid, but that’s not the whole story. Despite his many routines, his reticence and fragility, he still surprises; he invites his friends to live with him and he turns into Han Solo and he’s able, somehow, to go on day after day in a world that’s not designed for him.
Relationships: Annie Edison/Abed Nadir
Comments: 12
Kudos: 50





	watch you drink your orange juice (you’re as good as superfruit)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yellow_Bird_On_Richland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow_Bird_On_Richland/gifts).



> Prompt: Annie/Abed, “things you said at the kitchen table.”
> 
> Title from “Superfruit” by Maude Latour.

Abed has thin fingers, slender and flexible. They’re currently tapping his glass of orange juice, growing slick with condensation. His nails are getting a little long–Annie can see narrow white crescents at their ends, slim as the rest of him.

He coughs, lips parting and then closing just as quickly. “Do you want buttered noodles?”

“You’re not supposed to have dairy when you’re sick,” Annie responds automatically, but she looks at Abed, his eyes all dark and cervine, and relents. “Okay, fine, but you’re making them.”

He doesn’t grumble, just gets up with a slight wince. Although he’s stooped, his body is still tall and lithe. Annie wonders sometimes why he doesn’t play any sports–he’s shockingly strong. She remembers his arms around her waist during the paintball game and shivers (but that might just be the temperature). Abed glances at her. “Carrots?”

“And peas,” she says. “I want a vegetable-to-noodle ratio of at least 2:3.” That’s their new rule: if one person chooses dinner, the other can decide the specifications. It works well. They work well.

He nods briskly and heads to the kitchen. Annie likes that about Abed: he follows through. He’s solid, but that’s not the whole story. Despite his many routines, his reticence and fragility, he still surprises; he invites his friends to live with him and he turns into Han Solo and he’s able, somehow, to go on day after day in a world that’s not designed for him. 

She swirls her drink idly with her straw. It’s twisty, curly. Unpredictable. They had been Troy’s idea—“bendy!” he’d said, doing a little dance—but over the years, she’s found herself using them the most. “Abed,” she calls. Her throat is dry, parched, even; she takes a sip of the juice. “You okay?”

“Fine.” He pokes his head out, shaking it like a wet dog. His hair’s a little shaggy, a little messy. Annie wants to run her fingers through it; instead, she asks “What movie tonight?”

“I was thinking,” he says, and pauses for dramatic effect. Using his own vocabulary, Abed’s a good co-star. “ _Contagion_.” He spreads his arms wide, curls his fingers. A proclamation.

Objectively, Annie understands that this would be more effective if his nose wasn’t red, if his eyes were free of dark circles, if he didn’t have a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead making it shiny and sticky and a little gross.

Annie thinks that she doesn’t care much about what’s objective, though. She likes zigzags. Surprises. Plot twists. Cliffhangers.

“Yeah,” she says as she watches Abed slowly smile, his mouth (still a little wet with the orange juice) curling upwards like petals opening to the sun. “Yeah, I think that works.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yell with me on Tumblr at [withatalentforsquaddrill](https://withatalentforsquaddrill.tumblr.com) (for general bullshit) or [foresme](https://foresme.tumblr.com) (for fandom bullshit).


End file.
